


Safe Haven

by SapphireBlueJiyuu



Series: Arya x Gendry Week 2013 [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:26:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireBlueJiyuu/pseuds/SapphireBlueJiyuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>AxG Week Prompt 4</b>:<i> Haven</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe Haven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Calisi_87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calisi_87/gifts).



> I was about to not fill this prompt but after reading **Calisi_87** 's submission for that prompt, it completely inspired me to write this. So I hope you enjoy. :)

The very first time she had sought refuge was in his company. It was a weary place since they were on the road and a long ways away from the Wall.

The next time she sought refuge was in his companionship. It was familiar and their repertoire was getting better.

The time after that she had sought refuge in his friendship. It was comforting since they could understand what the other was thinking with a single look now. It was different, their friendship, because he was different.

She refused to seek him out when she was across the sea, thinking this time, she was safe for sure; away from the chaos that had ravaged the land she had once called home. But she had realized very quickly that you may run away as far as your legs could carry you, but the farther you ran, the closer you were to wrapping around and finding yourself back where you began.

So, she found herself returning to the place where she had once called her home, her oasis. Yet, that too had been burned down and destroyed by those who betrayed her family and herself. The one place she thought was mayhaps not touched by the cruelty and destruction of war, was razed to the point of being nearly unrecognizable, it's grandure lost in scorch marks upon the warm walls. They were like scars that gnarled and bent in on itself. The charred remains of her childhood burned her nose like acid.

She had slept in her father and mother's bed, the night of her return. The sheets were dusty and cold from lack of use.

Two moons later, he showed up at the gates of Winterfell, seeking refuge after the war had taken the inn where he once smith at. He was older, his shoulders broader than she had remembered. She did not like the way her heart quickened at the proximity of his presence when he stood before her nor how her lips became dry when his blue eyes twinkled in delight at her recognition of his name.

It was a fortnight before she sought refuge in his arms. The scent of smoke, worn leather, and musk enveloped her. She buried her nose into the curve of his neck, enjoying the taste of his skin when she breathed in through her mouth. She was very aware of each part that her body was touching his, her nerves tingled and her cheeks became warm. The warmth was real and it woke something in her that she was sure was long dead. Everything felt so real when she was in his arms and he is telling her that he missed her and that he's sorry that he couldn't find her sooner and that he should have never left her in the first place and since she didn't want him to talk anymore she silenced him by pulling back and kissing him. When he didn't run, she did it again, and this time he returned it with fervor.

This was what she was looking for all along. Her safe haven: it was in his arms.

It was in the way he sighed her name. It was in the way he would nuzzle her hair and trace the arch of her nose and brush his lips ever so carefully across her temple. It was in the way he would look at her, as if he was always surprised she was still there, regardless of the fact that his strong arms were wrapped around her entire form. It was in the way he would always be gentle with her, even when he was wrapped up in passion, his gaze heated and slightly crazed but his fingers would softly whisper and worship her every curve. It was in his boundless patience and the way he would murmur his love for her in the dead of night when he thought she was asleep. It was as if he breathed her back to life; pumped goodness back into her cold, pulverized soul. He made it safe enough to trust again, to love again.

Because safety was an illusion but he wasn't.


End file.
